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A knock at the Reverend Mr. Fairweather's study door called his eyes from the book on which they were intent. He looked up, as if expecting a welcome guest. The Reverend Pierrepont Honeywood, D. D., entered the study of the Reverend Chauncy Fairweather. He was not the expected guest. Mr. Fairweather slipped the book he was reading into a half-open drawer, and pushed in the drawer.

How it happened, Ben hardly knew, but in a little while they found themselves in Seth Fairweather's boat, and were paddling up the river, out and in among the shadows, past the open fields and the cedar swamp to the point where the Ythan Burn fell into the Beaver.

Their gatherings and feasts and excursions are ennobled by vocal music from the rich store of healthy, vigorous German song, from which they learn, in the words of one of their most popular melodies, to honor "woman's love, man's strength, the free word, the bold deed, and the FATHERLAND!" The Reverend Chauncy Fairweather's congregation was not large, but select.

She finished her long story at last. The minister had listened to it in perfect silence. He sat still even when she had done speaking, still, and lost in thought. It was a very awkward matter for him to have a hand in. Old Sophy was his parishioner, but the Veneers had a pew in the Reverend Mr. Fairweather's meeting-house. It would seem that he, Mr.

Crane bedewed her own kerchief with some of the eau de Cologne of native manufacture, said on its label to be much superior to the German article. It was a relief to Mrs. and the Miss Cranes when the bell rang and the next guests were admitted. Deacon and Mrs. Soper, Deacon Soper of the Rev. Mr. Fairweather's church, and his lady. Mrs.

Fairweather's cousin, you will recall, and my one great hope is that he may prove to be as fine a character as the man who piloted us over the Old Apache Trail last summer." "I sincerely hope, for our sake, that he knows his business," nodded Elfreda Briggs. "Where did you leave the girls?" questioned Grace.